Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan) header
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He is the Floronic Man, and all that was once human in him is consumed. Engulfed. Swamped.

Woodrue. I am the Plant Master, Floro, a…
Joined December 2013
Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)Photo by Wọọɗrụẹ (@TheFloronicMan)
"And the tragedy here is not that mankind is flawed, Talia. The tragedy is that mankind is predictable."
“Humanity is inherently flawed.”
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The strangest thing about mankind is not its appetite for destruction. Every species consumes, and every organism competes. No, what fascinates me is humanity's ability to catalogue its own crimes in exquisite detail while continuing to commit them.
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𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘯 (@TedBergstresser) 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 @EarthsElemental'𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺. 𝘕𝘰 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘮, 𝘯𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵. 𝘐 -
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- 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨.
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"Intelligent comments require roots to take hold. Alas, I fear the soil with most ivies here is too shallow."
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The moss whispered in the corners of his mind that she was like so many others here, unable to answer, unwilling, pathetic. Pamela, the green queen, the chlorophyll-laced harpy of hashtags, she had chosen the air above him, not the soil beneath. He was left alone, speaking to -
Replying to @vinesandthorns
"Foreign? I was the hand that split your seed, Pamela. The root in your blood is mine. Purpose is for men. Growth needs none. And growth does not ask permission."
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- ferns, his messages curling into compost with polite neglect. Even the spiderwebs mocked his persistence, glittering like dew on forgotten ambition. To be ignored by the Earth herself was a bitter fertilizer indeed.
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#BialyaDisaster In the blackened heart of a country reduced to scorched ruins, where once-proud cities lie in smoldering heaps of rubble, something stirs beneath the earth. A quiet thing, insidious, patient, and ancient, moving with the inevitable certainty of nature itself. -
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- viridescent power, a new Eden, untouched by man’s ambition. It was not the rebirth of Bialya, but rather the death of the human world. And so, Woodrue, man, mutant, elemental force, let the land grow in its own image, untouched by human hands. He would no longer tend it, for -
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- it was beyond him now. It was the land’s rebirth, not his own. But he had planted the seed.
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